My Lock, His Key
by JessamineStallone
Summary: "The difference between a soul mate and the love of your life is simple. One is a choice, and I did not choose Dougal McGregor."
1. Intro

**Disclaimer: Just a fangirl doing her thing. I don't own anything**.

**My Lock, His Key**

Last night I dreamt I saw him again, standing tall and broad against the mid summer sky, his dark hair quivering with the breeze. For a moment, I believed myself to be feeling the same wind caressing my cheek, but of course I knew I only dreamed. I would wake alone.

He wore tartan, his sleeves rolled to his elbows, his trousers cropped just below the knee. He beckoned me to move closer. I was aware that he wanted to run and play in the sea like a child. In a trance, I obeyed. I could see the gold speckles in his dark green eyes gleaming in their mischevous manner, I could see a bit of soil on his chin, lingering from a hard days work, I could see the cracks on his sunburnt lips. He was so beautiful.

We did not speak for a long while, or so it seemed, but I knew I was crying, I knew I was always crying in this dream.

I loved him, I love him, I will _always_ love him.

The students may think me strict, hard, only an old woman, a ridiculous, sour, professor but they did not know me because they did not know him. I can never be my true self again. He fills my every thought. I made a mistake, a mistake that would haunt me to my dying day.

Of course, much later, I found someone else.

A man who could not stand in the way of my own selfish ambition. Dear Elphinstone, he was so good, so jovial, so understanding. I had loved him, in a different way, with less conviction and fire. He knew I had left another behind and I could see it in his eyes, that he was willing to be my second choice. We had made very suitable companions and I thoroughly enjoyed the many years we spent together.

But, as a widow, one has much time to reflect and through my reflecting I have found one undeniable truth.

The difference between a soul mate and the love of your life is simple. One is a choice, and I did not choose Dougal McGregor.

It's funny how days, months, even years of my life have gotten, swirled together, mixed around, lost in time when I can remember so clearly every moment of those glowing summer days we spent together.

I was eighteen years old, it was 1941, and the very last thing I was looking for was love.

* * *

_A/N: Hi! I know it's short and all but this is just the intro. This is my first story written in first person so I'm not exactly sure how it's going to go. Minerva turned rather tormented in this, more so than I expected and I'm not quite sure I'm getting her right. Hopefully this will be a longer story. I'm honestly going to try and finish this one. Tell me what you think. Please review! _


	2. Chapter 1: Ma'ma's Victory

**Disclaimer: Don't own anything!**

_Chapter 1: Ma'ma's Victory _

"Oh Elise!" I squealed, doing circles for the mirror in my new navy dress. "There's nothing quite like a new frock, is there?"

"No, Madam." Elise answered.

She was girl around my age, rather short with blazing red hair and a quiet disposition. Not much of a friend because of it, like other ladies' maids but then again, I hardly needed to make friends with a maid. Perhaps, Elise had never gotten a new dress herself, perhaps she had been forced into the ill fitting garments of her sister's.

"Lord, it is hot, isn't it?" I fiddled with my hair. Although, I did not tell her so, Elise had done a fine job styling it. I admired myself in the mirror again. The dark curls fell perfectly against my pale face creating a look rather like the film stars from America and I added dark red lipstick to stay true to the effect.

"Will that be all, Madam?"

"Yes, Elise. Thank you."

I took once last glance in the in the mirror, sighing as I did. My last summer at McGonagall Manor stretched long and dull ahead of me. There were not to be any family visitors, and it was not a public day so I had claimed it all to myself. I hurried down the stairs, careful of my heels, and into the dining room, stopping dead in my tracks when I entered.

"Ma'ma!" My voice was surprised, girlish. "What are you doing down here."

Mother always took breakfast in her room. I beloved she would have spent all her time up there, away from us, if it was acceptable.

She paused over her egg. "There's been a ghastly accident with one of the tennants and his son. It would appear that old man McGregor has lost his touch with a horse. He used to be quite good with them, you know. Anyway, your father insists we all five go down and visit." She paused, her voice lowered still void of any sympathy, and glanced to the corner to verify that Franks, the butler, was not standing in the corner. "Such a muggle thing to do of course, but it's not for me to decide."

I felt my eyes move heavenward. I had planned a whole day for myself just five minutes ago and now I would be subjected to a cheap cup of tea, boring conversation, and awkward silences all while sitting in a Tennant's nasty house. "Oh, but do I have to?" My hands slapped at my thighs. "I'd planned a walk, through the woods and by the sea! Can't I do that instead?"

"No, you may not." My father stood in the doorway, Bible in hand and white collar tucked under his black button up. "You're insufferably selfish sometimes, Minerva."

"But Pa'pa-"

"No! The answer is no!" His voice was suddenly filled with fury. He moved dangerously close to me, so close that I could feel is breath on my neck. "I don't know where your importance has come from all of a sudden. I suppose you've got a job now but it won't be as easy as you fancy."

He slammed the the book down on the table. My father had a cool temperament and hardly ever got angry, rather, showed he was angry but this was to be one of the few times he ever lost his head. I could see a vein pulsing just above his eyebrow. His appearance frightened me, I had never seen him this way and could hardly understand how I had set him off so. "You've had everything handed to you, Minerva, everything and now you think you'll just waltz off and do what you like?"

"Oh, I see." I started carefully. "I see what this is all about. You don't want me to leave home."

He laughed shortly, a short, cold laugh void of all humor. I did not like it. It was not him, not my father at all. They had fought again last night and he was still on the defense. "Look at you. Look at your hair, your dress, your nails."

I saw nothing offensive and shrugged. It may have been my violently red fingernails.

"Did not Elise fix your hair, button your dress, paint your nails?"

I bit my lip. I was beginning to see what he was getting at. Mother knew, she wore a subdued, triumphant look on her face and suddenly, I realized that it was she who had put the idea in his head at all. Perhaps, it was what they had roughed about last night. No,there was no doubt, they had fought over me.

She was jealous, she was so unforgivably jealous. I thought for a moment that I hated her, that she hated me. If father only saw her thoughts, her horrible, menacing, jealous thoughts. She was a sinner and there was no way for him to know, but I knew and although, I did not have the same understanding of God as he, I believed she would pay for it in the end.

"I'm going to wake the boys and when I get back you had better be ready to go and wish the McGregors well. I will hear no more of this."

He stalked off, leaving mother and me alone. The silence between us was unnerving. She was laughing inwardly, I knew, I just knew she was enjoying her little victory. I fumbled for my cigarette case, pulled one out and lit it, my hands trembling the whole time.

"Oh, Minerva," Mother stood and walked over to me, plucked the cigarette out of my mouth and took a long drag herself, "you anger your father so, don't you?"

I did not answer. She dropped the cigarette on the ground, stubbing it out with her black pump.

"Of course, he really doesn't understand you. It's hard for a father to watch his daughter become independent." Her voice went to a whisper. "It's even harder for a muggle to watch her become part of a world he does not belong to." She resumed her regular manner, put both hands on my shoulders and kissed my temple. "Wipe that lipstick off and put a ribbon in your hair, why don't you, darling? I daresay you looked like a _perfect_ whore for your aunts and uncles yesterday."

I could hear her heels clicking obnoxiously down the hallway. "Franks!" She called somewhere in the vastness of the manor. "Franks, Minerva dropped a cigarette in the dinning room. No- it's quite alright. Just clean find somebody to clean it up, will you?"

I could feel my fists clenching at my sides, hear blood pumping in my ears. She was infuriating, she always had been, always would be and these McGregors- I hated them already.

Later that day, after I had composed myself, we all made the long trek down to the McGregors. I regarded their little farmhouse scornfully, I was absolutely not in the mood to pay calls. Malcolm and Robert were being especially annoying. They had been rough housing around and Mother was furious because Robert had fallen and ripped his trousers. Father carried an angry silence wherever he went, a fly made rounds around his head while he thrashed at it violently. On top of that all it was hot. Hot, hot, hot.

"Good afternoon, Mrs. McGregor."

The woman who stood in the door looked like any other farmer's wife I had met, sturdy, plain and pregnant. "Good afternoon, Minister." She seemed taken aback that the whole family was there, like she hadn't cleaned the living room and it would not be suitable for us to sit in. I tried to hide a smile. "I- I wasn't expecting you or..."

"Is this a bad time? We can-"

"No," she said, "no of course not, Minister. Please, come in."

The house wasn't as bad as I expected. Of course it was small, well, small in my world but it was well kept and tidy. I noticed photograph sitting on the mantle piece of their fireplace. There was a very handsome boy standing alongside Mrs. McGregor and who I assumed to be Mr. McGregor. A very handsome boy indeed.

"Please, sit down. Can I get you a cup of tea?"

"No, that's quite alright, thank you." Father had assumed his smooth minister's voice. "Isobel and I were just wondering what we could do to help. We've brought you this basket." He handed her a large, hand woven basket filled with meat and cheese and vegetables. "I know this will be a difficult time for you and your family with your husband out of work and you and your current state."

She placed a hand on her very swollen stomach. "Yes, thank you but my great aunt is willing to employ me at her shop just up the road until the baby is born. That should see is through."

"But that shouldn't be long at all, Mrs. McGregor." This time Mother spoke. There was something in her voice menacing, just hiding under that kind facade. She nudged Father. "Robert, remember what we discussed?"

He did not want to say it, I could see, but he did. "My daughter has offered to come once a day and help you with your housework. Cooking, cleaning, whatever you may need. She needs the practice anyway, for when she goes off on her own at the end of the summer."

My jaw narrowly avoided falling off its hinge but I managed to mask my surprise before Mrs. McGregor could see it. "How kind of you, Miss. McGonagall."

"Oh, it's nothing." Mother said hastily. "You're delighted to do it, aren't you, darling?"

"Yes, rather."

"Well, that's settled then. Minerva shall come in the mornings and stay however long you like, Mrs. McGregor. She's a strong girl, it won't hurt her to do a bit of work." Mother smiled.

Malcolm and Robert looked at me and then looked at each other with wide eyes. I suppose they were wondering what was in store for them. Mother kept on smiling and Father shifted uncomfortably through the silence.

"I wonder, might we see Mr. McGregor? Pray with the family?"

She stood quickly. "Why, of course. Of course. I'll just need to get my son- he's just in the yard."

"No, let Minerva get him. Go on, Minerva."

I walked dumbly out to their little yard. Had I just heard my parents correctly? Was I really to be maid to the McGregors?

There was a boy sitting comfortably on a bench in the sunshine. The boy in the photograph. He appeared to be sleeping. I sighed and walked over to him. His arm was in a sling and I was careful of it when I jostled him awake.

He woke with a jolt, getting to his feet in a very short time and regarding me suspiciously. "Who are you?" Suddenly his eyes widened. "No! You're the minister's daughter aren't you?"

I nodded.

He looked me over again, this time wearing an amused expression and whistled.

"What?" I asked harshly.

"It's just, I've lived here my whole life and I've never seen you. And let me say, you are not what I expected."

I'm sure I looked scandalized. "What is that supposed to mean?"

He laughed a little. "Just that I figured you looked like Quasimodo or something, hiding away in the manor all the time."

Despite my amusement, I gave him a hard look. "I've been at a boarding school, in fact. From the time I was eleven. Not '_hiding away'._"

"Yes, yes I suppose that makes a bit more sense." He paused. "I'm only curious, why are you here?"

I sighed again. "It would seem I'm your mother's personal maid now. Oh, and of course, my father has come to pray with yours. So come on."

"Uh-uh." He shook his head. "The minister may pray all he likes, my father is still going to hell or wherever."

I felt my eyebrows raise on my forehead. "That's a fine thing to say."

He kept on smiling. I did not know him, I did not know him at all but I could see his eyes. Those dark green eyes, that painful look masked by a smile of those dark green eyes. "You can't tell me you _honestly_ believe in all of that, can you?"

I shrugged. Heaven and Hell, God and the Devil, each meant less and less to me as I grew. So it seemed the same with this boy.

"I mean, if there really was a God, why would he let us suffer like we do?"

"Is this where I offer a quote from the Bible? Because you're barking up the wrong tree."

He laughed. I'll never forget his laugh. It was low and gay and lovely all at the same time. It left you leaning on your tip toes, waiting for more. "I like you, Minerva McGonagall. We're not so different, you and I."

He used my Christian name but I didn't mind. I liked him too. I really liked him and we had only just met two minutes before. I felt the color flood to my face. My heart was beating quickly and I did not know why. He was handsome, and funny and even more he wasn't afraid to share his feelings. I had just seen a part of his soul. He wanted me to. We shared something, something deep and not at all on the surface. It could be tucked away and hidden from anyone else, but we shared it and we knew. We were perfect strangers but now we had a secret, our secret.

He held out his arm and without thought I took it. Something felt right, so right. "Come on. Let's go bow our heads and pretend we're praying, Minerva." He said. "I'm Dougal, by the way."

* * *

A/N: Thanks for reading. Tell me what you think. Please review!


	3. Chapter 2: Truth or Dare

**Disclaimer: Don't own anything**.

Chapter 2: Truth or Dare

The next few mornings, usually after some fight with my parents, I would slowly make my way through the estate and down to the McGregor's, where Mr. McGregor would still be sleeping, I rather preferred him that way because he wouldn't be wailing at me, and Mrs. McGregor would make a quick getaway after giving me an 'optional' chore list. Presently, this left Dougal, who smiled sheepishly at me from the couch as I tied an old apron around my waist.

He and I had developed a friendship, maybe more than a friendship in my eyes. He was everything I would want if I were looking for a love interest but I was not and I did not plan to let on as so.

"Hello, Minerva McGonagall." He said, his words drawn out in such a way that it brought a smile to my lips. I turned and busied myself with a pan to hide it. "Why hide that lovely smile of yours?"

He was flirting so blatantly with me that I couldn't help but laugh.

"Because I'm expected to not want to be here." I retorted, noticing how his eyebrows rose with a curious excitement. Perhaps he thought I had actually volunteered and I had just made a fool of myself. Or perhaps he now knew that I liked him and I had made an even bigger fool of myself. I felt the color rise to my cheeks as I cracked an egg and watched it simmer in the pan.

Dougal smiled again and I knew that he knew. The color burned harder in my cheeks. I don't know why I was so embarrassed. There was certainly this tension between us, it must have been sexual. I was sure he felt the same thing towards me and still, I squirmed under my words like a silly school girl.

_God_, I seemed so pathetic to myself. Dougal and I had know each other for a week, literally a week and I believed myself to be falling in love. Like Romeo and Juliet.

'_Love.' I said to myself bitterly. 'What on earth do you know about love, Minerva?'_

I knew nothing of love, I had no intention of ever finding it, I was not even sure it existed. My mother did not love my father, she didn't love us, she didn't love the other men. Yes, I was pathetic, I thought myself to be falling in love and yet I didn't even believe in it.

"I've just had the most brilliant idea, Minerva." Dougal's bright voice brought me out of my thoughts. "It's a nice, warm day- let's go to the sea!"

I turned and looked at him dubiously. "I have these chores to do and your arms still hurt."

"No it's not." He slipped his arm out of its sling and waved it around easily. "I've just kept it on for show."

I made a noise of disbelief and continued making breakfast.

"Oh, come on Min! You know those chores only take you an hour. You play quite the domestic housewife."

"Oh, really?" I scoffed in a light hearted manner, throwing a dish towel and hitting my mark right above his heart. "I am not domestic!"

"Well you're certainly not any fun."

I sighed, looking him up and down with my hands on my hips. "Alright."

"Alright?"

"Alright, I'll go."

Dougal seemed thoroughly pleased with this news. He helped me finish up the rest of the chores. I took breakfast to Mr. McGregor who was extremely grouchy and before noon we were sitting on a tartan blanket together spread on the beach.

After a while, Dougal stood and took off his shoes and socks and began to unbutton his shirt.

"What are you doing?" I asked incredulously, covering my eyes when he stripped down to only his underclothes. "Dougal!"

"I'm getting in. Aren't you coming?"

"No!" I shrieked. "I don't have my suit."

"You don't need it."

"It's too cold."

"Domestic." Dougal looked at me with a taunting air, smiled and took off running towards the water. "How far do you think I can run before I fall?"

I watched but did not have a chance to respond because Dougal tripped somewhere in the water and went face first into it. He resurfaced and began to run towards me again, shaking the wetness out of his hair and on to my skin. It was cold but I hardly felt it. I could only feel him.

"I bet you can't do any better than that, Minerva McGonagall."

I stood. He had a way of testing me but that didn't matter. I was going in that cold water with Dougal whether I wanted to or not because I was falling in a love that I did not understand with him. He made me want to go into the sea because he was going. He made me want to run because he was running. He made me want to laugh because he was laughing. I pulled off my blouse and unzipped my skirt. I had never been self conscious with my body but now I wanted him to be impressed as I stood there, nearly naked.

He took my hand in his. We looked in each other's eyes for a moment and I noticed a certain gleam in that deep, beautiful green. I didn't know what it meant and I wondered if eyes were truly a window into the soul. I wondered if he thought I was beautiful. Tom Riddle had once called me beautiful but I thought I would much rather have Dougal tell me so. I thought he was beautiful.

"Don't stop running, Min, alright? That's the rule."

We took off like the wild creatures I had vowed never to become.

The next thing I knew I was popping out of the insufferably cold water, laughing hysterically when Dougal and I bumped into each other and fell back down again.

"I believe I won, Dougal." I took into account my position just a bit farther than his.

"I believe you're right."

We laughed together again. I had never laughed so much in my life as I had in that week. It was easy and not at all forced like it had been so many times before. We walked back to the blanket and wrapped ourselves in it together. I almost regretted not bringing my wand, I could have conjured some towels but then again Dougal was a muggle and I would have gotten in more trouble than it was worth.

"Truth or dare, Min?"

"Oh, lord. You and your games." I said weakly. "I suppose I'll take truth on account of you're mad."

Dougal smiled and looked off into the horizon. The sun was setting in a summer's way with purple and blue and orange dancing behind it. He bit his lip in a thoughtful manner.

"Have you ever been in love?"

I blinked, momentarily stunned at his words. "That's quite a question!"

Dougal showed no signs of retracing it. He wanted, needed to know. I could see. I did not need to think about the answer for a moment. I loved him and therefore I had been in love.

"Yes." I said so quietly that the softness of my voice startled me. "Have you?"

He nodded and immediately he was on me. Our lips met. He kissed me hard, like I had never been kissed before. He loved me. I loved him. We had just told each other and yet we had said nothing.

"I don't want to stop."

For a moment we were one. We were as close as two people could get. Dougal and I were meant to be together. Oh, how we fit so perfectly together. But it was not lustful, it was passionate, a declaration of love and I may have been the minister's daughter but I never regretted doing it.

I loved Dougal McGregor and he loved me.

That was all that mattered.

A/N: I've tried really hard to make this good and I wonder what I've been doing wrong. If you could please leave a review with some advice or criticism or anything. Thanks.


End file.
